The Time Has Come
by sosmitten
Summary: It's about time for some procreation. Originally posted at BWR.


**Author's Note:** I wrote this for **JeSouhaite** because she wanted smut. Thanks so much to **CineFille** and **Lula Bo** for being such amazing betas. This is much better for their feedback.

* * *

I bounce into the bedroom from the bathroom, the excitement giving me way too much energy for this time of the morning. Slipping under the covers, I slide over next to my husband and watch him. My husband. It's been a couple of months but the words still make me feel all squishy inside. Luke rolls his eyes every time I go out of my way to call him that, but I also know that he secretly loves how thrilled I am to be married to him.

I can't help smiling as I gaze down at him, looking totally peaceful as his chest rises and falls with the rhythm of deep sleep. It's probably cruel to wake him. The poor guy has been spending a lot of late nights at the diner recently while he looks for someone to cover during Lane's band tour. I should really let him sleep, but all this thinking about 'my husband' has made me very eager to get started, so I croon softly, "Luke, it's time."

His eyes aren't even open, but he's shooing me away with his hand, even as he croaks groggily, "What?"

"It's time," I say again.

"What time?" he asks, his voice a touch more alert, though his eyes are still closed.

"_That_ time."

He finally blinks open his eyes and fixes me with a sleepy stare. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Obviously, my waking him has made Luke grumpy, so I lean down to give him a quick kiss. "It's that-" kiss, "time of the month," kiss.

"Lorelai!" he groans, his face wrinkling into a look of distaste. "I don't want to-"

"No, not that time," I correct, shaking my head. "The other important monthly cycle, you know the one that's just started to be important now that we're jumping without a parachute."

His eyes widen as my meaning becomes clear. "Now?" he asks, looking a little panicked. "Right now?

"Why? Is that a problem?" I tease.

He doesn't seem to have heard my question, "How do you know? Because your temperature did whatever it's supposed to do?" He gestures vaguely in the direction of my nightstand, where I keep the thermometer that I use for temperature charting.

I give a little chuckle at his question. He'd been skeptical of the charting, didn't understand why we needed to do anything beyond the actual having of the sex. I'd teased him about being able to show off to the town how quickly he could knock up his pretty new wife, and let it go at that, because I haven't really confessed to him how nervous I am about my biological clock winding down. We spent too much time dancing around each other before getting together and then too much time breaking up once we were together. I don't think he knows how worried I am that after we've gotten excited about having a child together, I might not be able to give him one.

But doing this, the charting and everything, has helped convince me that my body is still working the way it's supposed to work and I really want to put it to the test. Immediately, if possible.

Which brings me back to the conversation at hand. "Among other things," I say airily, "Now-"

"Other things?" he cuts in.

I wave him off. "You don't want to know."

"Why not?" He's fully awake now and seems much less interested in ravishing me than I had hoped.

I shake my head, "You _really_ don't want to know."

"Seriously? You're not going to tell me?"

I give a sigh of frustration. "Can you just trust me when I tell you that you, Luke Danes, do not want to know how I know that it's the right time for us to make a baby?" I run my fingers down his chest and bend down to give him a languid kiss. "All you need to know is that it's time to make love to me."

"I don't know if I can perform on command."

His voice is serious, but I think he's teasing me, so I say with a grin, "Past experience would seem to prove you wrong,"

"But this," he stammers, "is…this is different. It's more important."

Truthfully, I'm a little hurt that he hasn't found my presence more inspirational, though I know it's about more than that. We've talked about the kids, and the babymaking, at least as much as Luke is willing to talk about that kind of thing, and I know that he's ready. But I can also tell by the look on his face that he's a little wigged by the nowness of it all.

"I just…I thought maybe I could make you a nice dinner."

I can't help but smile, because it's such a sweet thought, but seriously, could we make this any more of a production? "You know, we're beyond the point in the relationship where you have to make me a nice dinner to get me in bed."

"That's not it," he protests. "Can we just…Can we do it later?"

I smirk because it's too easy. "You want to do me later?"

He gives me an exasperated look, "I don't want to _do you_. Just later, okay?" He gives me an earnest look. "Please?"

I take a breath and summon up my tiny little reserve of patience and understanding. Leaning toward him, I press my lips to his and then whisper softly as I pull away, "Fine. Later."

He brushes his fingers across my cheek and then around the back of my neck, pulling me toward him to return the kiss. "Good," he says, nodding. Then he tips his head toward the bathroom. "I'm gonna go take a shower."

He slides out of bed and walks away from me, and I realize that he didn't specify _when_ later, so I begin plotting.

I hear the shower start and wait another couple of minutes. Then I drag myself out of bed and saunter into the bathroom. I give an exaggerated yawn and then a long stretch, reaching my fingertips toward the ceiling. Slowly, I bring my arms down, then prop one of my legs on the toilet and apply some lotion to it, making sure that I'm bending gracefully and giving Luke an eyeful of leg.

I'm very intentionally not looking directly at him, but the glimpses I'm catching of his reflection in the mirror make me think that yes, those glass shower doors _were_ a good idea. He's just finished washing his face and right now he's started shampooing his head. The lather is just beginning to slide down his chest when I notice his head jerk toward me. Now that I know I've got his attention, I grab the bottom hem of my tank top and ease it up over my head, tossing it toward the hamper with a little flick of my wrist. I follow the tank with my panties, after slipping them over my hips in what I hope is an alluring way, and letting them fall to the floor.

Without looking back, I walk out of the bathroom, stealing Luke's flannel off the doorknob as I pass. I slip it around me, acknowledging to myself the irony of getting dressed after removing all of my clothes. But, I reason, it's a lot more fun if he has _something_ to take off.

Stretching out on the bed, I arrange his shirt so it covers just enough of my skin. I don't have to wait long. Less than a minute later, Luke comes out of the bathroom, a towel hanging snugly around his hips. His legs are still wet and a few drops of water fall from his hair and slide down his chest. It looks like he was in a hurry.

"Lorelai, what the hell was that…that _show_ in there?"

I look pointedly at where the front of his towel is tenting towards me. "I'm just trying to get your little sidekick to come out and play with me."

He starts sputtering, not even making coherent words yet, and I shift to make his flannel shirt fall open, revealing a bit of cleavage. His eyes widen into a look that's some weird hybrid of incredulous and irritated and really turned on. "Why…why are you making this into such a joke?"

"I'm not," I answer, keeping my voice light. "I'm seriously just trying to entice my husband to make love to me." I shrug and fix him with my eyes. "I don't usually have to work so hard."

"But shouldn't this be a little more, I don't know, solemn?"

Now it's my turn to be incredulous. "Solemn? You do realize that in order to make a baby we need to have sex, right?"

He gives me that patented, 'you're being ridiculous' look.

"And that sex is fun, right? Well, at least it is for me. What with all of the kissing, and touching and," I shift again, letting his shirt fall further down my shoulders, "_other_ _things_…"

He's just closed the space between us and covered his lips with mine in the space of nanoseconds. "You're impossible," he mumbles against my mouth.

"Finally," I laugh. "My God, the work." I pull back far enough to look him in the eye. "I can't believe you were standing there fully cocked trying to talk me out of sex."

"Will you please shut up?" he growls.

I give him a smirk. "Make me."

If I ever needed any evidence that Luke gets turned on when he's exasperated with me, this is it. He literally attacks me with kisses, burning a path down my throat and across my shoulder, pushing aside the flannel as he goes.

"What the hell did you get dressed for?" he grumbles.

"Gotta make you do a _little_ work," I say, grinning as he tries to pry my arm free. I slip my arm out of the sleeve, looping it around his neck and pulling his lips back to mine. Now that I'm naked, he takes the opportunity to run his fingers down my back and around to my belly. As he brings his hand up to cup my breast, I moan in appreciation. He smiles as he dips his head to press kisses to my chest, alternating them with tiny flicks of his tongue. I arch toward him and he slips his arm under my shoulder blades, pressing my body into his lips. Then in one swift motion, he tugs the flannel off my other arm and slides it out from under me.

When he's succeeded in getting me completely naked, he gives the kissing and touching his full attention, and I begin to think I've distracted him sufficiently from the babymaking part of the mission, at least long enough to actually complete the mission. And it's a good thing too, because between his insistent fingers and his very talented tongue, I'm starting to lose my focus. It isn't until he shoves his leg between mine as his fingers travel down my belly that I realize he's still wearing his towel.

I trail my fingers down to his waist from where they've been tangled in his still-wet hair. When I slip my finger under the top edge of the towel, he sucks in a breath, and I move slowly around his waist, looking for the place he's tucked in the corner of it. Loosening the material, I pull it off and throw it to the side. I run my hands over his abs, feeling them tighten under my palms. He's still covering my shoulders and neck with kisses as I slide my hands around and grab his ass.

I run my hands over his thighs and hips, waiting until he lets out a tortured groan before wrapping my hand around his erection. I spend some time there, stroking and fondling, while I listen for moans; after all the verbal foreplay, it doesn't take long. Then he whimpers and I know I've got him not just literally in the palm of my hand.

He lets out a breathless, "Oh God," and lowers his head to give me a fierce kiss.

I can't help but whisper, "So I guess you do want me after all?"

I'm expecting him to shake his head in frustration and make some sort of sarcastic remark, but instead he lifts his head to look me in the eye and just says, "Always." How does he do that? Seriously, if I didn't already have scientific proof that I'd ovulated, I'd be pretty convinced that he'd just instigated it. I try to reciprocate by giving him a gentle squeeze and earn myself another moan. He attempts to continue the 'amazing journey of the marvelous mouth and fantastic fingertips,' but I've got him close enough to the edge, that he finally just whispers, "Ready?"

I give a small nod. "Ever since I woke you up."

That earns a smile and he gives me a long, slow kiss before pushing inside me. I let out a moan at the sensation, closing my eyes as I wait for him to start moving. Instead, he says softly, "Lorelai?" and I open my eyes to find him looking at me with an almost reverent awe.

"Yeah?" I ask.

"We're making a baby."

I should really make a joke, because duh. But I can't get over the wonder in his voice, and damned if he's not making me feel just a bit solemn after all.

"Yeah, we are," I answer, feeling just a bit awed myself.

Then he starts moving, his eyes locked on mine, my hands clasped in his. As much as I've teased him today about taking this too seriously, I think that it's me who is feeling overwhelmed by emotion right now. It's just that this has been a long time coming and I didn't expect that when we finally got around to the babymaking that it would feel so different, so intense. And that Luke would be the one that in the end was so confident, so sure. He circles his hips and I let out another moan, lifting my legs to press him deeper inside me. I'm starting to tremble, and Luke adjusts his position to push me over the edge. By the time the waves of pleasure start to subside, he is burying his face in my neck and whispering my name.

After catching his breath, he props himself up on his elbows and smothers my face with kisses, his lips soft and warm on my cheeks, eyelids, nose. When his lips reach mine, I cup his face with both hands and hold him there for a lingering kiss. He breaks the kiss and rolls off me, gathering me against his chest, his arms holding me tight as he breathes into my hair, "I love you."

My stomach does a little flip, hearing the words and knowing how moved he is by the prospect of having a child with me. I pepper kisses across his chest and whisper, "Back atcha." I lean my head against his chest for a moment, then lift it to add, "So much," and I feel his grip around me tighten.

After a few minutes he begins tracing light patterns on my back with his fingers. "So," he says, breaking the silence, "we may have to try a few more times, just to be sure, right?"

I break into laughter and feel myself shaking in his arms. "You are such a _man_."

_Fin_


End file.
